A wild chimney ride of excitement arrives back-end-first every year, and everyone stays up late to try to catch a glimpse of it, but the day before Christmas can be such a chore. For me, it’s kind of a snore-fest of wrapping presents and trying to measure carefully. Well, I say no more. Here’s what’s on my list the day before Christmas, and what I’m doing to put the pep(-ppermint schnapps) back into my cocoa:
My list consists of wrapping presents, stuffing stockings, and making Christmas Eve dinner. I know what you’re thinking: that’s only three things, but wrapping presents takes me about 8 hours. We don’t have that many presents to wrap. I just cannot, for the life of me, manage to pull a package of patience out of my socks, which results in wrapping jobs with uneven edges and bare spots that act as peek-a-boo spoilers. Also, while I’m wrapping presents, I lock myself in the bedroom while the cat screams outside and Nate and Alex pace back and forth asking if I’m done yet, because they have presents to wrap too. So, this year, I’m setting up a scavenger hunt around the house for everyone else while I wrap presents—and drink wine. Also, here are some time-saving tips I’ve just thought of now that will add whimsy and much-needed relief:
–For bottle-shaped presents, stuff the bottle inside of the leg of one pair of tights or dark panty hose. Cut off the panty part and the other leg and tie a bow on top. Done.
–Everything else goes into bags that you hopefully bought on sale before people ripped the wrapping paper aisles to shreds. If not, raid the sock drawer for more pantyhose. Or, use aluminum foil, which you can re-use when making the Christmas dinner. Here’s an example:
“Hey, everyone! Remember all of that underwear I wrapped in aluminum foil and that you unwrapped for Christmas? I just baked the roast in that very same foil!”
Nate wraps all of the tiny gifts in the stockings, which is so thoughtful and wonderful to open, but I’ve just exhausted myself with pantyhose and aluminum foil. I don’t want to go through the same shenanigans again for tiny gifts. Instead, I carefully slap a sticky bow on each item, throw it down the chute, and call it a day.
Christmas Eve Dinner:
I don’t mind the cooking, but I do like to have company, which lasts about five minutes before everyone finds other things to do that might or might not involve sampling cat treats. So, here’s a fun game I just thought of now. It has not been tested, so it might not be that much fun, but here we go:
–I pull out all of the measuring cups, spoons, small appliances, etc., and line them up on the countertop.
–Everyone has to guess which items I’ll use to make the meal. Then, they have to grab the items I mentioned.
–When I get to the part of the recipe/preparation that requires that gadget/tool, the person holding it has to use it to make that part of the recipe/perform that task. Now, here’s where Nate and Alex could pull a fast one on me. Let’s say I’m making barbecue chicken sliders on Hawaiian rolls, and the Mickey Mouse shaped waffle maker is on the countertop. They know that I will not need this appliance, so they will fight to be the one to stand around in the kitchen with it. If they select an item they know I will not need, their job is to actually use that item to prepare a side-dish somehow and/or reorganize the pantry.
–For a drinking version of the game (alcoholic or not), Nate, Alex, and I can take a sip every time I say something like “cups” or “spoon.”
–Bonus round: I could keep a deck of “Would you Rather?” cards nearby so that every time it’s Nate or Alex’s turn to mix something or pour a drink for the chef, they could start a thought-provoking conversation like this:
Would you rather come down the chimney face-first or feet-first?
In any case, I’m excited to get the day started. With this solid plan, what could go wrong? The sock drawer will never be the same, but the pairs of pantyhose are the unsung heroes. They’re the reindeer of my Christmas sleigh.
Your Turn: How do you take the “snore” out of a “chore?”